Ed Batista

Leaders Love Puzzles (for Better and for Worse)

An observation drawn from my practice is that leaders love puzzles. So do many people, of course, but typically as an absorbing hobby. In my experience a disproportionate number of leaders exhibit an almost obsessive need to tackle and solve complex problems, and this trait is one of the factors that drove them to seek out (or create) a leadership role, which reliably presents them with any number of "puzzles" to solve on a daily basis.

This is particularly true of entrepreneurial founders and startup leaders. In their case the new venture is a potential solution to a massive unresolved problem, and the business itself is a multi-layered puzzle, the real-life equivalent of a video game in which completing one level allows you to keep playing at the next level, usually with increasing degrees of difficulty.

Sociologist Thomas Henricks, whose research explores the role of play in human life, identifies the mechanisms that make puzzles of all types so engrossing to pursue and so fulfilling to solve:

Different puzzles have much in common. They produce similar sensations in their players: mixes of frustration and anticipation as the hunt advances followed (ideally) by the end-pleasure of solution. Sometimes that end--and the steps required to reach it--is apparent, but often it is not. In that latter case, success features a series of "aha" moments, the sudden revelations we call discovery. [1]

The process of solving a puzzle also engages the human fascination with "stories," in the broadest sense of the term. As we navigate the world around us, we automatically craft a series of explanatory narratives that help us make sense of our surroundings and predict what will happen next, a process I've called "the narrative engine." [2] This drive helps to explain why so much of the media we consume presents us with a story in the form of a puzzle: mysteries, thrillers, romances, adventure tales. Nearly every story is a puzzle, and nearly every puzzle tells a story.

These dynamics are at the heart of what makes leadership roles rewarding. The status, compensation and other perks are pleasurable, to be sure, but their power as sources of motivation inevitably diminishes or even disappears. A process psychologists call "hedonic adaptation" ensures that we adjust to our circumstances and eventually take them for granted. [3] I see this constantly in my practice--leaders may strive mightily for years to obtain a certain position or achieve a given financial goal, and when they do the feeling of accomplishment is frequently less fulfilling and more ephemeral than they expected.

In contrast, the satisfaction to be derived from solving puzzles is endless, in part because in business resolving any problem usually creates new ones. [4] And for many leaders in my practice this is both a blessing and a curse. It makes work intrinsically motivating and helps to provide the stamina needed to pursue complex challenges for long periods of time. But it can also make it very difficult to stop working, switch off, set limits, and take time away--or even get a good night's sleep.

If this sounds like you, what can you do about it?

Increase Your Self-Awareness

Awareness is rarely sufficient on its own to drive change, but it's the necessary first step. Your healthy drive to solve puzzles in the business (or the puzzle that is the business) turns counterproductive when you no longer make an active, deliberate choice to work but instead work compulsively. You compound the problem when you fail to prioritize your tasks, allowing what's urgent (or simply at the top of your Inbox) to dictate your agenda. Instead...

• Invest in a mindfulness practice, not because it will mitigate your stress--it won't--but to help you notice where your attention is going.
• Treat your attention like a precious resource, and try to maximize the return on your investments.
• Understand the difference between urgency and importance, and be discerning in what you choose to attend to--and ignore.

Manage Your Emotions

Emotions, both positive and negative, are at the root of your inability to stop working. The fulfillment and pleasure that are rewards for successfully solving a business-puzzle go hand-in-hand with the frustration that arises when a puzzle resists your best efforts, the anxiety evoked when time or other resources grow short, and the fear that you may someday fail--and thus lose the right to keep puzzling. We can't control our emotions, nor would we want to, but we can regulate them and their impact on our behavior:

• Learn more about the role emotions play in reasoning, and their potential to disrupt your intentions.
• Note that the difficulty of disconnecting from business-puzzles is likely driven not by strong emotions but by weak ones.
• Explore the relationship between emotion and attention.

Find Other Puzzles

It's profoundly difficult to stop thinking about something, so attempts to simply disengage with work will likely fail--the business-puzzles are just too compelling. [5] But if you keep working right up until bedtime, your brain will continue to try to solve those particular puzzles, which may diminish the quality of your sleep or even wake you up in the middle of the night. The solution is to substitute other puzzles, while taking steps to ensure that they remain healthy distractions and don't become unhealthy obsessions:

• Most media you consume takes the form of a puzzle, but your laptop and phone make it all too easy for business-puzzles to interrupt you, so manage the flow of business data, and note that multi-tasking can be harmful.
• Video games, social media, and any form of "news" [6] offer a perpetual supply of alternative puzzles, but they're also meticulously engineered to hijack your attention, so engage them with care.
• Consider the benefits of a much older form of "puzzle technology"--paper. A good book will provide you with a fulfilling puzzle without interrupting you with notifications, and research suggests that reading a book in bed results in a better night's sleep. [7]

 

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Footnotes

[1] Why We Enjoy Puzzles: The View From Play Studies (Thomas Henricks, Psychology Today, 2022)

[2] A Better Information Diet

[3] Early research on hedonic adaptation dates back to the 1970s--for example, see Lottery Winners and Accident Victims: Is Happiness Relative? (Philip Brickman, Dan Coates and Ronnie Janoff-Bulman, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 1978). More recently, UC Riverside Sonja Lyubomirsky provides what I find to be the most useful descriptions of the concept:

Although we may achieve temporary boosts in well-being by moving to new parts of the country, securing raises, or changing our appearances, such boosts are unlikely to be long-lasting. The primary reason...is that people readily and rapidly adapt to positive circumstantial changes. (The How of Happiness, page 63, 2007)

The more we attain, the happier we become. But, at the same time, the more we attain, the more we want, which negates the increased happiness. (The Myths of Happiness: What Should Make You Happy, but Doesn't, What Shouldn't Make You Happy, but Does, page 120, 2014) 

[4] The Problems of Success

[5] Why You Can't Stop Thinking About Something

[6] The scare quotes around "news" reflect my opinion that the vast majority of information presented today via any and all news media comes in the form of puzzles intended to arouse anxiety and distress, while fostering the illusion that further passive consumption is a form of constructive puzzle-solving. I've had many clients who successfully stopped working on business-puzzles at a reasonable hour only to find themselves obsessively doom-scrolling late into the night. In this sense there's no distinction among video-games, social media, and most "news"--but the latter comes wrapped in a veneer of pseudo-productivity and virtue, making it all the more insidious.

[7] Does reading a book in bed make a difference to sleep in comparison to not reading a book in bed? (Elaine Finucane et al, National Library of Medicine, 2021)

 

Photo by Marco Verch.

Some Crises Build Character. Others Reveal It.

Something bad happened, and there was a crisis. There are still many risks, and the situation could yet turn worse, but at the moment, catastrophe has been averted. If approached correctly, this can be a fruitful learning experience for you and the people around you. It may seem too early to learn from the crisis, but don't wait too long. Nobel Prize-winning psychologist Daniel Kahneman notes an important distinction between our experience and our memories:

The experiencing self is the one that answers the question: "Does it hurt now?" The remembering self is the one that answers the question: "How was it, on the whole?"... Confusing experience with the memory of it is a compelling cognitive illusion... The experiencing self does not have a voice. The remembering self is sometimes wrong, but it is the one that keeps score and governs what we learn from living, and it is the one that makes decisions. What we learn from the past is to maximize the qualities of our future memories, not necessarily of our future experience. This is the tyranny of the remembering self. [1]

So while events are still fresh in your mind, and the distress and anguish felt by your experiencing self are still vivid, here are some questions to pose to yourself and others:

What did you learn about yourself?

How did you respond under pressure, anxiety, and uncertainty?

Crises evoke a sense of threat, which triggers the "fight, flight, or freeze" response. What did you learn about your tendencies?

How did you communicate with people (venue, channel, cadence, level of detail, tone)?

How did people respond to your communications? What does that tell you about your effectiveness?

How did you make decisions? What did you learn about your decision-making under stress?

What did you learn about the people around you?

How did THEY respond under pressure, anxiety, and uncertainty?

What did you learn about THEIR "fight, flight, or freeze" tendencies?

How did they communicate with you and others?

How effective were their communication efforts?

How did THEY make decisions? What did you learn about THEIR decision-making under stress?

 

Gathering this data is a useful exercise, and it's by no means sufficient. Awareness is always the necessary first step, but it rarely leads to growth on its own. Truly learning from this crisis will entail understanding your strengths and your weaknesses, and then engaging in an ongoing effort to maximize the former and address the latter.

More specifically, you'll want to understand how you can best prepare for the next crisis. Outdoor writer Tom Stienstra survived countless life-threatening situations during his decades roaming the wilderness by remembering a piece of wisdom from self-defense instructor Il Ling New: "Everyone thinks they will rise to the occasion. What happens instead is that you default to your level of training." [2] So here are some further questions to consider:

What do your responses above tell you about your strengths and weaknesses?

How can you be better prepared for the next crisis?

What might it look like to train for that crisis?

Who might you turn to, where might you go, to obtain such training?

 

The questions above are largely aimed at capabilities, but crises also teach us something essential that can't be learned under any other circumstances about character.

What did you do that you're proud of? What motivated those actions?

What did you do that you're NOT proud of? What motivated THOSE actions?

What do any of these actions say about your character?

What do the actions of others say about THEIR character?

What do you want to remember?

 

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Footnotes

[1] Thinking, Fast and Slow, page 381 (Daniel Kahneman, 2013)

[2] Tom Stienstra’s Tales of Survival (San Francisco Chronicle, 2023)

 

For Further Reading

How Leaders Overcome Adversity

Aggression, Panic, Paralysis, Denial

The Importance of Slowing Down

From Peacetime to Wartime

 

Photo by GraceOda.

JFK on Doing Hard Things

In 1957 the Soviet Union launched the first satellite into orbit, known as Sputnik, which raised grave concerns in the United States and accelerated the "space race." [1] Having won election in 1960, President John F. Kennedy entered office the following year determined to increase U.S. investment in space exploration. This initiative took on new urgency in April 1961 when the Soviets sent the first man into space, Yuri Gagarin, a dramatic development that caught U.S. leaders by surprise. [2]

In May 1961 Kennedy convened a special session of Congress to address "urgent national needs," including space exploration, in which he made a bold declaration: "I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth." [3] In September 1962 he delivered another speech at Rice University in Houston, Texas--the home of NASA's "Mission Control"--in which he reinforced his determination to reach the moon within the decade. [4]

It's worth remembering that the international mood at the time was extremely tense. The U.S., the USSR and their respective allies had been facing off in the Cold War for over 15 years, a struggle that regularly broke out into armed conflict in proxy wars around the globe. [5] The U.S. was less than a decade removed from the height of the "Red Scare," when legitimate fears about Soviet agents escalated into hysterical paranoia.

And just four weeks after Kennedy's speech in Houston the nation would be gripped by the Cuban Missile Crisis, which, we now know, was the closest we've ever come to nuclear war. [6] So the space race wasn't just a spirited contest between international rivals, a high-tech version of the Olympics in which the winner would claim bragging rights. It was a new front in the Cold War, and the stakes were incredibly high.

It was also going to be incredibly expensive, and the benefits to the average American citizen were unclear and abstract. Going to the moon was going to be hard, but it might be even harder to convince the U.S. taxpayer to foot the bill. It was one thing for Nikita Khrushchev to order increased spending for the Soviet space program, as he did in the mid-1950s. But Kennedy would have to win Congressional and popular support for the U.S. efforts if he wanted to succeed while remaining a viable candidate for re-election.

Yet this is exactly what he accomplished, in part thanks to his speeches in 1961 and '62, which make them worth examining today for any leader who's asking people to do hard things. So what did Kennedy do that helped motivate his fellow Americans to do this hard thing?

He frames his goal in a larger context.

If we are to win the battle that is now going on around the world between freedom and tyranny, the dramatic achievements in space which occurred in recent weeks should have made clear to us all, as did the Sputnik in 1957, the impact of this adventure on the minds of men everywhere, who are attempting to make a determination of which road they should take. (1961)

The exploration of space will go ahead, whether we join in it or not, and it is one of the great adventures of all time, and no nation which expects to be the leader of other nations can expect to stay behind in the race for space. Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it--we mean to lead it. (1962)

For space science, like nuclear science and all technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if the United States occupies a position of pre-eminence can we help decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war. (1962)

He acknowledges the difficulties ahead and is candid about U.S. shortcomings.

The facts of the matter are that we have never made the national decisions or marshalled the national resources required for such leadership. We have never specified long-range goals on an urgent time schedule, or managed our resources and our time so as to insure their fulfillment. Recognizing the head start obtained by the Soviets with their large rocket engines, which gives them many months of leadtime, and recognizing the likelihood that they will exploit this lead for some time to come in still more impressive successes, we nevertheless are required to make new efforts on our own. For while we cannot guarantee that we shall one day be first, we can guarantee that any failure to make this effort will make us last. (1961)

This decision demands a major national commitment of scientific and technical manpower, materiel and facilities, and the possibility of their diversion from other important activities where they are already thinly spread. It means a degree of dedication, organization and discipline which have not always characterized our research and development efforts. (1961)

We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too. (1962)

To be sure, we are behind, and will be behind for some time in manned flight. But we do not intend to stay behind, and in this decade, we shall make up and move ahead. (1962)

He stresses the need for shared sacrifice and collective agreement.

In a very real sense, it will not be one man going to the moon--if we make this judgment affirmatively, it will be an entire nation. For all of us must work to put him there. (1961)

Let it be clear that I am asking the Congress and the country to accept a firm commitment to a new course of action, a course which will last for many years and carry very heavy costs: 531 million dollars in fiscal '62--an estimated seven to nine billion dollars additional over the next five years. If we are to go only half way, or reduce our sights in the face of difficulty, in my judgment it would be better not to go at all. (1961)

I believe we should go to the moon. But I think every citizen of this country as well as the Members of the Congress should consider the matter carefully in making their judgment, to which we have given attention over many weeks and months, because it is a heavy burden, and there is no sense in agreeing or desiring that the United States take an affirmative position in outer space, unless we are prepared to do the work and bear the burdens to make it successful. (1961)

To be sure, all this costs us all a good deal of money. This year¹s space budget is three times what it was in January 1961, and it is greater than the space budget of the previous eight years combined. That budget now stands at $5,400 million a year--a staggering sum, though somewhat less than we pay for cigarettes and cigars every year. Space expenditures will soon rise some more, from 40 cents per person per week to more than 50 cents a week for every man, woman and child in the United States, for we have given this program a high national priority--even though I realize that this is in some measure an act of faith and vision, for we do not now know what benefits await us. (1962)

He expresses hope and optimism, and emphasizes America's capabilities and potential.

I have not asked for a single program which did not cause one or all Americans some inconvenience, or some hardship, or some sacrifice. But they have responded and you in the Congress have responded to your duty--and I feel confident in asking today for a similar response to these new and larger demands. (1961)

In the last 24 hours we have seen facilities now being created for the greatest and most complex exploration in man's history. We have felt the ground shake and the air shattered by the testing of a Saturn C-1 booster rocket, many times as powerful as the Atlas which launched John Glenn, generating power equivalent to 10,000 automobiles with their accelerators on the floor...

Within these last 19 months at least 45 satellites have circled the earth. Some 40 of them were "made in the United States of America" and they were far more sophisticated and supplied far more knowledge to the people of the world than those of the Soviet Union. The Mariner spacecraft now on its way to Venus is the most intricate instrument in the history of space science. The accuracy of that shot is comparable to firing a missile from Cape Canaveral and dropping it in this stadium between the 40-yard lines. (1962)

He uses humor to lighten the mood.

I appreciate your president having made me an honorary visiting professor, and I will assure you that my first lecture will be very brief. (1961)

Why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may well ask why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas? (1961)

(Rice University, the setting for the 1961 speech, had a longstanding football rivalry with the University of Texas, a much larger school. At the time, Texas led the series 29-19, and Kennedy's line got a laugh from the crowd. Notably, a few weeks after Kennedy's speech, Rice eked out the only tie in the series--although since 1962 Texas has gone 44-2.) [7]

Finally, he closes on a note of transcendence and uplift.

It is heartening to know, as I journey abroad, that our country is united in its commitment to freedom and is ready to do its duty. (1961)

Many years ago the great British explorer George Mallory, who was to die on Mount Everest, was asked why did he want to climb it. He said, "Because it is there." Well, space is there, and we're going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God's blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked. (1962)

 

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Footnotes

[1] Sputnik and the Space Race: 1957 and Beyond (Library of Congress Resource Guides)

[2] The Decision to Go to the Moon (National Aeronautics and Space Administration, NASA History Office)

[3] Address to Joint Session of Congress, May 25, 1961 (John F. Kennedy Presidential Library)

[4] Address at Rice University on the Nation's Space Effort, September 12, 1962 (John F. Kennedy Presidential Library)

[5] Here's just a partial list: Vietnam 1945-46, Iran 1945-46, Greece 1946-49, Philippines 1946-54, Vietnam (again) 1946-54, Malaysia 1948-60, Indonesia 1949-62, Korea 1950-53, Egypt 1952, Vietnam (again) 1955-75, Laos 1959-75, Congo 1960-65, Cuba 1961.

[6] One Step from Nuclear War (The Cuban Missile Crisis at 50: In Search of Historical Perspective), (Martin Sherwin, Prologue Magazine / National Archives, 2012)

[7] Rice-Texas football rivalry (Wikipedia)

 

Photo by Denali National Park and Preserve.

Self-Care for Coaches

Coaching is a very fulfilling activity, and I feel lucky to spend all day, every day working with leaders in this capacity. But it's also very demanding, which is why I try to take good care of myself--and my practice--in a variety of ways. This certainly includes the basics: mindfulness, exercise, sleep, reducing chronic stress. [1] But more specifically, there are four self-care practices for coaches that I follow myself and recommend to colleagues.

1. Get a Coach

There are a number of obvious reasons why every coach should have a coach. Just like our clients, we encounter difficult situations that test our capabilities on a regular basis, and coaching is a reliable means of augmenting our strengths and addressing our weaknesses. Further, guidance from a seasoned fellow professional can help us to consider new possibilities and overcome blind spots. As I've noted before, coaching isn't just about asking questions, and advice and feedback play valuable roles in the process. [2]

But being in a formal coaching engagement also offers something of special importance to the coach-as-client: empathy. As coaches, we're used to being in the position of having others come to us with their problems and challenges, and forgetting what it's like to be on the other end of a helping relationship can be an occupational hazard. Being coached reminds us of what it feels like to be a client--and that invariably makes us better coaches. [3]

My initial exposure to coaching came as a client in my first leadership role after business school. A mentor on my board of directors advised me to invest in myself and get a coach, and I went back to one of my Stanford professors, Mary Ann Huckabay, and asked if she would take me on as a client. Thankfully she did, and our work together not only transformed my approach to leadership, but also helped motivate me to launch my own coaching practice in 2006. Three years later I realized that I needed a coach in order to be the best coach I could be--I returned to Mary Ann's practice, and we've been working together continuously ever since. If you don't have a Mary Ann in your life, I hope you'll reach out to your network of colleagues and find one. [4]

2. Talk About Money (with People You Trust)

As an independent coach working solo, I wear two hats: I'm a coach who cares deeply about my craft, and I'm also the CEO of a small business who must ensure that my business remains profitable. It's easy to find people who want to talk about the soulful art of coaching but who don't know much about running a profitable practice. It's also easy to find people who are eager to sell you their services to help you build a practice but who don't seem particularly soulful, to say the least. In my experience the key is building relationships with colleagues who share your commitment to craft and who are also willing to discuss the financial and logistical aspects of running their practice. [5]

For many of us there's always some discomfort in discussing finances, and that can be exacerbated if we're reluctant to think of coaching as a profession. But a coaching engagement is both a personal relationship and a business relationship, and the integration of both halves makes it successful and sustainable. Acknowledging and attending to the financial needs of our practice is critical in that process and ultimately in the best interests of our clients.

Collegial relationships in which we can have such candid conversations are built on trust, which often starts with a willingness to be vulnerable. (This may be yet another reason to work with a coach.) And note that it may be easier than you think. I sometimes have occasion to talk with aspiring coaches who are just starting out, and at a certain point in the conversation I generally say, "Let's talk about money"--and they are invariably relieved that I've taken the initiative to broach the subject.

3. Manage Your Assets (and Say No More Often)

When wearing my CEO hat I have to be mindful that my small business has two (and only two) assets: my time and my reputation. I'm the sole steward of those assets--if my time is wasted or my reputation suffers, no one pays a price but me. Further, other people may well have very different ideas than I do about how to employ my time or build my reputation. So it's essential for me to manage these assets with great care.

I'm not suggesting that there's one best way for you to manage your own time and reputation. One person's wasted hour is another's sound investment. And what qualifies as a "good use of time" or provides a boost to your practice's visibility or your personal brand will undoubtedly change during the course of your career, so any guidelines in these areas should be revisited regularly. But it helps immensely to establish such guidelines in the first place, even if they're provisional and open to experimentation.

I suspect that running your practice with an eye toward managing your time and reputation with care will eventually require to you say "no" more often. Nearly a decade ago, I wrote about the necessity--and the difficulty--of this transition:

Success is often built on a reflexive habit of saying "yes" to opportunities that come our way. We’re hungry for any chance to prove ourselves, and when we're presented with one, we take it, even--or especially--if it seems daunting. A lesson I learned years ago was to say "yes" to opportunities that made me feel nervous because the anxiety was a sign that I'd learn something useful. We may also tend to say "yes" out of a fear that turning down an opportunity even once sends a message that we're not interested, and we'll stop getting additional chances in the future.

But success tends to attract bigger and better opportunities. As we succeed, a key challenge becomes prioritizing the many opportunities that present themselves. We often try to do this without saying "no" definitively--we still want to keep our options open. Inevitably, though, this results in a lack of clarity and overcommitment, and we wind up disappointing people, exhausting ourselves, or simply failing. To prevent this we need to learn to say "no" gracefully but firmly, maintaining the relationship while making it clear that this is one opportunity we're choosing not to pursue. [6]

4. Live a (Somewhat) Boring Life

The French novelist Gustave Flaubert advised Gertrude Tennant, a friend and patron who later edited his correspondence, "Be regular and orderly in your life, like a bourgeois, so that you may be violent and original in your work." [7] I don't think of coaching as artistry, nor do I aspire to be "violent and original," but I do find Flaubert's underlying principle highly relevant and seek to apply it in a number of ways.

By committing to a "regular and orderly" set of routines, both professional and personal, I make it possible to do my best work every day on a sustainable basis. I'm not recommending any particular set of routines--I think each of us needs to determine for ourselves the practices that will best meet our individual needs. In my case, I generally get a lot of sleep, wake up at roughly the same time each day, see clients at predetermined timeslots with ample time in between sessions, take several walks a day, and have a quiet evening at home.

To be clear, I don't think it's necessary to strive for some sort of "perfect attendance record," nor am I suggesting that you need to impose a rigid set of rules on yourself. [8] Routines that feel unduly constraining are fragile, not resilient, and usually fail to be become habitual practices. Every once in a while I feel the need to stay up late, drink too much wine, and watch an old movie--although that's as wild as I get these days. But by giving myself permission to make exceptions, I make it easier to sustain the (regular, orderly) routines that constitute a typical day.

 

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Footnotes

[1] In The Art of Self-Coaching I devised the (admittedly cheesy!) acronym MESSy to highlight the importance of mindfulness, exercise, sleep and reducing chronic stress. For more on these topics:

Mindfulness

• Don't Just Do Something, Sit There! (Mindfulness for Busy People)
  
• Arriving at Your Own Door: 108 Lessons in Mindfulness (Jon Kabat-Zinn, 2007)
• Meditation Techniques for People Who Hate Meditation (Stephanie Vozza, Fast Company, 2014)
• 26 Scientifically Proven Superhuman Benefits of Meditation (Jon Brooks, ComfortPit, 2014)
• This is what eight weeks of mindfulness training does to your brain (Christian Jarrett, BPS Research Digest, 2016)
• Eight weeks to a better brain (Sue McGreevy, The Harvard Gazette, 2011)
• Changing Our Brains, Changing Ourselves (Lea Winerman interviewing Richard Davidson, American Psychological Association Monitor, 2012)

Exercise

• Get Moving! (Exercise for Busy People)
• Walking lifts your mood, even when you don't expect it to (Christian Jarrett, BPS Research Digest, 2016)
• The First 20 Minutes: Surprising Science Reveals How We Can Exercise Better, Train Smarter, Live Longer (Gretchen Reynolds)
• Need A Self-Control Boost? Get Outside (Jessica Stillman, Inc., 2014)

Sleep

• Great Leaders Sleep Well--Why Rest Is Critical for Success (Ronnie Hendel-Giller, 2018)
• There's a Proven Link Between Effective Leadership and Getting Enough Sleep (Nick van Dam and Els van der Helm, Harvard Business Review, 2016)
• You Can't Do Your Job if You Don't Sleep (Tony Schwartz, Harvard Business Review, 2012)
• Sleep-Deprived Leaders are Less Inspiring (Christopher Barnes, Harvard Business Review, 2016)
• Senior Leaders Get More Sleep Than Anyone Else (Rasmus Hougaard & Jacqueline Carter, Harvard Business Review, 2018)
• The Science of Sleep: Dreaming, Depression and How REM Sleep Regulates Negative Emotions (Maria Popova, The Marginalian, 2012)

Stress

• Trauma Stewardship: An Everyday Guide to Caring for Self While Caring for Others (Laura van Dernoot Lipsky with Connie Burk, 2009)
• Bouncing Back: Rewiring Your Brain for Maximum Resilience and Well-Being (Linda Graham, 2013)
• Peak Performance: Elevate Your Game, Avoid Burnout, and Thrive with the New Science of Success (Brad Stulberg and Steve Magness, 2017)
• Embracing Stress Is More Important Than Reducing Stress (Clifton Parker, 2015, discussing recent work by Stanford psychologist Kelly McGonigal)
• How to Make Stress Your Friend [14-minute video] (Kelly McGonigal, 2013)

[2] Coaching, Advice and Feedback

[3] See Chapter 3 in Edgar Schein's Helping: How to Offer, Give, and Receive Help (2011), entitled "The Inequalities and Ambiguities of the Helping Relationship."

[4] How to Find (and Choose) a Coach

[5] While coaching isn't therapy, one of the most useful resources I've encountered regarding the management of a practice is Sheldon Kopp's Back to One: A Practical Guide for Psychotherapists. A few of the topics he covers are unique to therapy, but much of the book is equally relevant to coaching.

[6] Learning to Say "No" Is Part of Success

[7] Oxford Reference

[8] I make one exception: I expect to be early and fully prepared for every single coaching session, every working day. A coach's first job is showing up.

Photo by iezalel williams.

Thank You, Stanford, and Goodbye!

Hoover Tower, July 2016

Begin with the End in Mind

At the end of 2006 I accepted an offer to join the first in-house coaching staff at Stanford's Graduate School of Business, where I had completed my MBA six years before. I took on the role not because I aspired to a career in academia, but because I was excited about the opportunity to contribute to the launch of the school's new curriculum, with its emphasis on leadership development and experiential learning, and because I thought it could accelerate my own development as a coach. The results on both fronts exceeded my wildest expectations.

I maintained a full-time role at the GSB until 2016, when I resigned to devote more time to my private practice, although I continued to serve as a Lecturer teaching Interpersonal Dynamics (aka "Touchy Feely") and The Art of Self-Coaching, the course I had launched the year before. I resigned from the Interpersonal Dynamics faculty in 2017 after the school asked me to add a third section of The Art of Self-Coaching, as I could only be on campus one day a week, and until 2020 I taught my course year-round. It was routinely one of the school's highest-rated electives until the last time I taught it in 2021, and I learned a great deal from that experience. I took a break from Stanford entirely last year, in part to reflect on the role I wanted teaching to play in my life, and a few days ago I concluded that it was time to retire from the GSB.

Today I'm struck by the extent to which the courses and programs that were products of the "new curriculum" are now viewed as features of the landscape, as if they'd always been there. This is gratifying, but it also reminds me that it's time to move on before I, too, am viewed as a feature of the landscape. I'm also somewhat astonished to realize that I worked with well over 1,000 MBA students in more than 50 courses from 2007 to 2021. It's impossible to convey how much my work with them has meant to me, and how significantly it shaped my growth and development, not only as a coach, but also as a person.

I know it's time to end this chapter of my professional life, but I do so with some ambivalence. I took great pride in delivering excellence as a teacher, and I don't like ending on a disappointing note with my final group of students. I loved creating an environment in the classroom that invited students to have deeper conversations and take some meaningful risks in order to learn, and I'm not sure how I'll meet that need in the future. And this evolution in my relationship with Stanford is yet another in a series of post-pandemic transitions that evoke a loss of identity.

All that said, the time is surely right. The last few years have made it clear that coaching is a counter-cyclical profession--the worse the state of the world, the more leaders benefit from good coaching, and I've never felt more useful to my clients or more needed. The idea of relating to Stanford as an alumnus, with none of the responsibilities that faculty and staff must bear sounds appealing. And at this stage of my life I'm reflecting on and writing about issues more relevant to senior leaders than to graduate students: coping with midlife malaise, evolving from warrior to sage, leading other senior leaders.

It's impossible to summarize my relationship with Stanford in a single essay, but I can recount half-a-dozen stories from the last few decades that provide a little color...

1. A Lesson in Humility

I arrived at Stanford as an MBA student in 1998--a quarter-century ago!--but my relationship with the university began in 1985, when I was a senior in high school. I was a bit lackadaisical about the college admissions process--the fact that high school was ending came as something of a surprise to me--and I discovered that I'd missed the application deadline for Brown, which had been my first choice, to the extent that I was making a choice at all.

I never considered the other Ivies, which seemed out of reach or a poor fit for me (or both), so I set my sights on Stanford, which I envisioned as both more achievable and more offbeat. I didn't feel arrogant about it, but I was confident I'd get in--and then a thin envelope arrived in the mail, informing me that my presence in California would not be required. It was the first of many useful lessons Stanford would teach me.

I ultimately graduated from Brown, via a long and winding path, but I keenly remembered Stanford's rejection, which served as a useful chip on my shoulder and source of motivation when I decided to apply to the Graduate School of Business to pursue an MBA. At the time I was passionate about helping nonprofits and NGOs use technology more effectively, and entrepreneur Jed Emerson and Stanford alumna Melinda Tuan helped me realize that the GSB would be the best place to pursue my vision. So it was very fulfilling when I got the call from the GSB's Director of Admissions Marie Mookini that I'd been accepted as a member of the Class of 2000.

2. Let's Talk About That

After graduation I spent the next six years pursuing the vision that had initially led me to business school, primarily as the first executive director of the Nonprofit Technology Network, aka N-TEN. I was determined to make N-TEN a success, and I threw myself into the experience with vigor, which resulted in some predictable conflicts. Vince Stehle, a member of my board, took me aside and said, in effect, "You're a talented guy, but you have some rough edges. I advise you to invest in yourself and get a coach." I turned to Mary Ann Huckabay, with whom I'd taken Interpersonal Dynamics (aka "Touchy Feely") as an MBA student and asked if she'd take me on as a coaching client. (Thankfully she said yes, and she's still my coach today.)

When I began exploring coaching as a career path in 2005, I considered applying to the GSB's Group Facilitation Training Program, which prepared community members to lead student groups in Touchy Feely. I participated in a group co-facilitated by Barbara Brewer and Dietmar Brinkmann to refresh my memory of the experience, and I got a lot more than I bargained for. Most significantly, I came to the realization that to give myself the greatest chance of succeeding as a coach I needed to quit my job and dedicate myself entirely to my practice--which I did. But for the first time I also grasped just how much growth would be required of me if I were to pursue this path.

With Mary Ann's encouragement I applied to the training program, and one step in the process was an interview with a current facilitator. The night before my interview Amy had to go to the emergency room, and the hospital kept her for observation. Amy insisted that I keep the appointment, and I arrived on campus feeling anxious and distracted. My interviewer was Tony Levitan, a GSB alumnus, and as we got started he noticed that something was amiss and asked me how I was doing. I answered candidly, saying something like "Not great," and Tony did something that I'll never forget: He said, "Well, let's talk about that." So we did--which, of course, turned about to be the most relevant type of "interview" for the program.

3. Too Big to Fail (Or So I Thought)

The Executive Challenge is a role-playing case competition that serves as the culmination of the first-year Leadership Labs course. I served as an alumni judge in a pilot version of the EC in 2007, and later that year my colleagues and I on the Leadership Coaching staff had to decide what to do with the event now that "LeadLabs" was becoming a mandatory component of the core curriculum. I recall a meeting with Evelyn Williams, the faculty member who had developed the original version of LeadLabs and the Fellows program at the University of Chicago's business school and had been recruited to bring it to the GSB by Dean Bob Joss.

At Chicago participation in the EC had been a reward for high-performing students, but I advocated for expanding it to include all students. If we kept it small, it would be our responsibility alone--and we were already struggling to command the resources necessary to make LeadLabs a success. But if the whole school was involved more people would feel a sense of ownership, and the EC would be "too big to fail." The final decision was Evelyn's, but I take a little credit for influencing the outcome, and today the entire MBA1 class participates in the EC, along with 70+ MBA2 Leadership Fellows and hundreds of alumni judges. (It's the second-largest event at the GSB behind graduation.)

This set the stage, however, for a great embarrassment and another profound lesson. From 2008 through 2015 I ran the scoring system for the EC, and it evolved into a finely-tuned machine that managed to process an immense amount of data throughout the day, carefully check the results, and deliver the final scores in time to be announced at a massive party held at the conclusion of the competition. But in 2014 an oversight on my part resulted in an error, which meant that several teams were awarded a victory that had to be renounced, and the real victors were denied the opportunity to celebrate with their classmates.

The cause of the error was a tiny technical glitch, and when I discovered what had happened I realized that it would be easy to evade responsibility. No one would have faulted me if I'd shrugged my shoulders and blamed the fates. But I decided that if I took pride in the system's previous successes--and I did--I had to claim this failure as my own. I reached out to the students who had been affected and apologized, and I received a host of gracious responses in return. I also wrote to the staff who had been assisting me, making it clear that I held myself responsible, and their supervisor, Ursula Kaiser, replied, "Thanks for the clarification, Ed. I appreciate your sense of accountability and honesty. You are a true gentleman." I don't always live up to that, but it's something to shoot for.

4. A Role Play for Real

In the summer of 2010 I was invited by Carole Robin to co-facilitate a group with her in the GSB's week-long version of Touchy Feely for executives, a program that would be overseen by David Bradford. I owe both Carole and David an immense debt for their many contributions to my career, including this experience, which was a high-profile opportunity for a relatively junior facilitator like myself. Much like the MBA version of the course, the program included large-group sessions before each group during which a faculty member would lecture or conduct an exercise that all 36 participants would observe. One such exercise was a role-play involving feedback between a faculty member and one of the facilitators, and it was agreed that David and I would team up for it.

Unbeknownst to David, I had felt an increasing sense of irritation with him as the week progressed. He had made a few joking comments that highlighted my junior status on the staff, and although in hindsight it was merely a form of friendly teasing, at the time I felt sensitive about my relative inexperience and resented these remarks. Without providing David any advance warning, I decided to make this dynamic the focus of our exercise--rather than conduct a "role-play," I would simply be myself and provide him with some direct feedback for real.

I don't recall what I said, but I recall vividly how it felt. David and I were seated in front of the room, with all of the participants and the rest of the staff arrayed in front of us. Somehow I conveyed to David that I wasn't role-playing, I was speaking from the heart, I was truly frustrated and upset, and I had some real feedback for him. Everyone in the room suddenly realized what they were witnessing, and it became very still and quiet.

From my vantage point today, I'm both embarrassed by this episode and proud of it. I'm embarrassed because it was clearly an effort to gain an unfair advantage over David by surprising him with this feedback in a public setting. And yet I'm proud of it because it was also a legitimate attempt to "walk our talk" as facilitators, to illustrate the concepts we were teaching not through a simulated experience but a real one.

David, to his immense credit, responded in the moment with grace and compassion, dissolving my frustration and providing our participants with a powerful example of how a leader could respond effectively to critical feedback from a subordinate, even--and especially--when it was an unwelcome surprise. After the conclusion of the large-group session, Carole and I joined our group in our breakout room. One of our group's members was a hardened military veteran, and throughout the week he had been skeptical about the experience and what he might learn from it, but as our group session began, he expressed how my interaction with David had earned his respect. He saw that we took our business as seriously as he took his, and he was going to put his skepticism aside.

5. On the Big Stage

From 2017 through 2020 I taught The Art of Self Coaching, the course that I founded in 2015, three times a year, in Autumn, Winter and Spring Quarters. While it was rewarding to work with so many students--over 100 members of each graduating class--by the end of each academic year I needed a break from Stanford. In 2017 and 2018 I was invited by the Second Year students to give a "Last Lecture," a talk on any topic I chose that would be held in the GSB's largest auditorium the week before their graduation.

It was an honor to be invited, but it also felt like a lot of work at a moment when I was ready to take a break, so I declined as graciously as I could. That was true, but it wasn't the whole truth--I was also anxious about the prospect of speaking in front of hundreds of people. I'm not a natural public speaker, and I've had to work hard to feel comfortable at the front of a room. The most helpful step in that process was taking a public speaking course at the Engineering School while I was an MBA student myself, but I still get butterflies even today.

In 2019 I anticipated being invited to speak for a third time--and having to decline a third time--when something interesting happened: The expected invitation never came...and I was disappointed. I realized that I enjoyed being asked, and when you keep saying "No" eventually people stop asking. Then, out of the blue, the invitation finally arrived, and it was clear that this time I had to say "Yes." So I did.

I knew what I wanted to discuss, and expanding that theme into a full lecture was relatively easy. But I was still anxious at the prospect of appearing on the big stage, so I went back to what I learned in that public-speaking course decades earlier--practice. I recorded myself giving the talk in my office, and that helped, but the best preparation was a bit more esoteric. The day before the lecture I drove all the way out to Chimney Rock, at the very tip of Point Reyes, and I gave my talk to the Pacific Ocean. The vastness of the sea was calming, perhaps because it put everything in perspective. If it went well, if it didn't go well, what would really change? (It went well.)

6. Bookends

Although I ended my GSB career teaching The Art of Self-Coaching virtually as a result of the pandemic--the first time was a big success, the second not so much--the course itself and my philosophy as an experiential educator were built around the in-person classroom experience, which is reflected in two activities that served as bookends for the course. I designed The Art of Self-Coaching to be an accelerated and economical journey. In a given quarter we had just nine or ten class sessions, each 1 hour, 45 minutes, which was less time than the other courses I'd been involved in over the years. I was confident that in the right conditions students could still have a deeply meaningful experience, but we had to get off to a fast start.

So before each quarter I memorized every student's face so that I could greet them by name as they walked into the classroom for the first time. There's no trick to the memorization process--it just takes time and effort--and it inevitably had an outsized impact. Occasionally students would even laugh in amazement. My goal was to send two messages: First, I'm setting a high standard for myself, and I hope you'll join me. But also, I see you--you're not just one of 36 students to me, you're an individual.

And in the final class session there was an exercise that invariably provided some of my best moments as a teacher. An ongoing theme in the course was what I really meant by "self-coaching." I provided a simple definition in the syllabus: "The process of guiding our own growth and development, particularly through periods of transition, in all domains of life." But this was intentionally vague and abstract, and by the final class I expected each student to have determined what self-coaching meant to them as an individual, and what it would look like in practice in their life.

I began the final class session with a warm-up exercise to get everyone moving and energized, and then I had them work on whiteboards in small groups, creating mindmaps that answered the question, "What is self-coaching to me?" The students would sketch out their mindmaps in silence and then discuss the results in their group. After the small group discussions we would conduct several more full-class activities, including some final remarks from me and a ritual to close the class. I enjoyed the entire session immensely, but it was particularly rewarding to observe my students as they discussed their mindmaps. Many of these conversations were quite animated, and there was a palpable sense of energy in the room. My persona as teacher was generally "circus ringmaster," so it's unexpected to realize that my most lasting memory of the classroom will be those times when I sat in the back and merely observed.

Many Thanks...

So to my former students: It was an honor to work with you, and I hope our time together continues to bear fruit in your current endeavors. Thank you, good luck, and keep in touch.

Over the course of my career at Stanford--as an MBA student myself, and later as a Leadership Coach and Lecturer, I was blessed with so many people who provided support and encouragement. I'm certain that I've inadvertently left some people off this list, and I apologize in advance for those oversights. That said, many thanks to...

Allison Rouse, Amy Kraus, Anamaria Nino-Murcia, Andrea Corney, Agnes Le, Anthony Ramsey, Barbara Brewer, Barbara Firpo, Bob Joss, Bob Sutton, Bonnie Wentworth, Bri' Godfrey,  Brian Lowery, Bryan McCann, Carrie Lee, Chevalisa Bruzzone, Chris McCanna, Chris Sadlak, Christopher Williams, Collins Dobbs, Courtney Payne, Delilah Gallardo, Dietmar Brinkmann, Dikla Carmel-Hurwitz, Domenico Anatrone, the late Don Flaxman, Don Hejna, Erica Peng, Grace Yokoi, Graham Veth, Graham Weaver, Hugh Keelan, Inbal Demri Shaham, Ingrid McGovert, James VanHorne, Jamila Rufaro, Jana Basili, Jed Emerson, Jeff Pfeffer, Jimena Galfaso, Joe Murphy, Joel Peterson, John Cronkite, John Johnson, Johnnie Walton, Joy Hsu, Karin Scholz Grace, Ken Chan, Kevin Martin, Kirstin Moss, Kris Becker, Lara Tiedens, Lela Djakovic, Leslie Chin, Lily Kimbal, Ling Lam, Lisa Kay Solomon, Lisa Radloff, Lisa Schwallie, Lisa Simpson, Lisa Stefanac, Liselotte Zvacek, Lynn Santopietro, Margee Hayes, Mark Voorsanger, Melinda Tuan, Michael Terrell, Mike Hochleutner, Mindy Williams, Nancy Dam, Nirit Hazan, Nonna Kocharyan, Nora Richardson, Paul Abad, Paul Roberts, Rebecca Taylor, Rebecca Zucker, Rich Kass, Richard Francisco, Richard Haukom, Ricki Frankel, Roberto Fernandez, Saraswathi Ram Mohan, Sharon Richmond, Stephanie Stevens, Sunny Sabbini, Sue Neville, Suzan Jensen, Tony Levitan, Tuquynh Tran, Ursula Kaiser, Vince Stehle, Yifat Sharabi-Levine, and Zoe Dunning.

More specifically...

Thank you, Carole Robin, for your invaluable guidance, your commitment to excellence, and your ongoing friendship.

Thank you, David Bradford, for your unfailing candor and your lifelong stewardship.

Thank you, Evelyn Williams, for your passion for leadership development, your genius for curriculum design, and the opportunity of a lifetime.

Thank you, Garth Saloner, for your rigor as a teacher and your foresight as a leader.

Thank you, Gary Dexter, for being yourself in the classroom, which emboldened me to do the same.

Thank you, Marie Mookini, for taking a chance on me.

Thank you, Mary Ann Huckabay, for being the single biggest influence on my life outside my family.

Thank you, Paul Mattish, for your unfailing professionalism in the face of utter chaos.

Thank you, Roberto Fernandez, for all you taught me and for being my greatest role model as a teacher.

Thank you, Sarah Stone, for being a beacon of clarity in the confusing life of a Lecturer.

Thank you, Scott Bristol, for your intellectual innovation and your heartfelt compassion.

 

Thank you!